


is it like the ocean?

by thir13enth



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Vaginal Fingering, or something, self-indulgence, you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22874896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thir13enth/pseuds/thir13enth
Summary: When it comes to pleasure, Ingrid appreciates a helping hand.
Relationships: Yuris Leclair | Yuri Leclerc/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	is it like the ocean?

**Author's Note:**

> at some point, you will realize that literally all my smut is solely based off canon quotes that can also be said in bed.

They only kiss _after_ dinner, of course. They know their priorities.

Ingrid doesn’t plan for anyone to find out about this — especially _not_ Felix or Sylvain, who would be more than happy to call her out on her hypocritical bullshit. Fortunately for Ingrid, Yuri is quiet on his feet and even smoother with his words.

They head straight to her room, and before the door even clicks locked, his lips are already on hers. She clutches his arms to keep herself steady as she follows his lead, stepping backwards until she falls into bed. His hands busily unbutton her shirt, loosening the top around her.

She inhales sharply when her shirt is tossed to the ground, the air sending chills over her exposed skin. He stops, watching her eyes calmly.

“Do you want to do this?” he asks, voice soft.

“Yes,” she affirms, with a vigorous nod. She takes his head in her hands and brings his face back down to resume their kissing. Once his hands finish peeling off her bra, he drags his lips down her jawline, trailing his mouth over her neck and between her breasts before taking giving each a short suckle.

She croons in desperation, and she parts her legs even wider, letting his body press further between her thighs. She links her ankles behind his back, angling her hips toward him and feeling the rough material of his pants grind against her — separated by only the thin layer of her underwear.

Prompted by her body language, his hands trail down to her knees and circle back up her inner thigh. Mouth on her lips again, his hand coasts over to the hem of her panties, passing them to his other hand to pull her underwear down until they drop to the floor. The tips of his finger glide over her folds, spreading her arousal up and down. Her eyes close as she lets the sensation wash over her.

“What do you like?” he suddenly asks her.

She opens her eyes. “Huh?”

“Do you like what I’m doing?”

She blinks a few times. “Yeah, whatever you do is good. Everything is good.”

His eyebrows furrow, and she feels the motion of his hand stop. “You don’t know what you like,” he says.

“What? What do you mean?” she asks, breathless and frustrated. Why did he stop? She just wants him to keep going.

“Have you…” He pauses, then rephrases, “Do you _know_ what you like?”

“Yes?”

Even she _herself_ can tell she doesn’t sound convincing.

He frowns. “Don’t tell me that you’ve never tried yourself before.”

“No, I have!” she exclaims.

He gives her a disbelieving look. “Have you now?” he asks. “Then show me.” He pushes her body further into her mattress, grabbing one of her pillows and tucking it under her head. He crawls into bed with her, lying next to her. “Show me how you like it,” he tells her, his hand flipping the plaits of her skirt up over her stomach.

For some reason, this puts a hard blush on her cheeks. She feels the heat rise up her face.

“Okay,” she says, her hand skimming down between her legs. She hides her nervous inhale, then runs two fingers over herself.

This isn’t that hard — she’s tried this before. It’s not like she’s lived a completely lust-less life. Sure, maybe in all her times doing this, she hasn’t quite… _achieved_ her expectations in doing so, but she’s done this before and it, at the very least, feels good.

She gingerly traces over her opening, feeling the unmistakable slickness that has developed after all that tussling with Yuri. She angles her hips up to more easily access herself. She takes a steady breath through a few seconds of extra sensitivity, and then dips her middle finger in, feeling her own warmth around her fingers and the familiar sense of penetration.

She moves her finger in and out a few times, focusing on building a rhythm. Her head turns to Yuri, gauging where he’s at. He lies on his side, his head supported by his hand, elbow resting on the mattress. She glances up to his eyes to see where he’s looking, but she’s surprised they are nowhere past her waist, instead completely focused on her eyes.

Flustered, she looks away from him, deciding it would be much easier to focus if she isn’t looking at him. But the ceiling isn’t quite the most entertaining thing to look at either, and after a few seconds she closes her eyes. She moves her finger in and out faster, adding her index finger as well as she feels her tension building. A long minute passes however, and nothing seems to progress past her plateau — she slowly slows her speed, feeling the lubrication at her center start to dry out.

Not giving up just yet, she slides her fingers back out and over her entrance, seeking other spots of sensation. She finds one, but after a few strokes, she finds the spot doesn’t quite give her the same rising wave. Her hand’s movements slow to a stop, and she sighs. She looks back at Yuri.

He offers her a gentle smile. “Stage fright?”

“I guess,” she says shyly. She purses her lips, considering, and then opens her mouth to admit that she has never climaxed before.

Doesn’t matter, because he interrupts her confession, leaning forward and placing a kiss onto her parted lips. Her hand lifts from between her legs to pull his head in to deepen the kiss, but he catches her wrist with his hand. 

“Do you want to know what I think?” he asks her, his lips transferring over to her held hand. He runs his mouth over the backs of her fingers. “I don’t think you’ve experimented enough.”

He sucks gently on her fingertips — eliciting a soft gasp from her — then guides her hand back between her legs, curling his fingers over hers. He positions her fingers at the top of her entrance, then starts the rhythm again, managing her fingers under his own.

“Close your eyes,” he softly commands, voice at her ear.

She obeys, gasping when he adds more force, pressing her fingers down even harder.

 _Oh_. He is applying _so_ much more pressure than she was. The intensity of the sensation thrills her as much as it scares her. After a moment, she feels her breath grow choppy.

“You like this?” he asks.

This time when he asks, she has no doubt.

“Yes, _yes_ ,” she sighs. A half-gasp, half-moan slips through her lips.

“Good.”

At this, his hand lifts from hers, and in panic, her eyes snap open, looking at him as if betrayed. An amused smile cracks over his lips, and he nods, urging her to continue on her own.

She looks down at herself momentarily, uncertain.

“Go on,” he encourages. “You were doing so good. You don’t need my help.”

She closes her eyes, throwing her head back into her pillow and adjusting herself. She focuses, replicating exactly as he had previously done with her. She just needs to apply the _right_ pressure… and there — she finds it herself, letting out a satisfied groan. Her back arches up with her sudden re-discovery, and she softly laughs to herself in amusement as she settles into her rhythm.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. She feels his hand take her chin, lifting it to plant open kisses onto her lips. She hungrily accepts his mouth, breathing into his kiss ecstatically. “Be patient with yourself,” he reminds her between kisses. “Let yourself go, and just imagine I’m fucking you. _Hard_.”

She whimpers at the word, fisting the bedsheets with her free hand.

“You’re doing _so good_ , Ingrid,” he tells her. She feels him fondle her breast, thumbing over the nipple. The ends of his hair tickle her skin just below her collarbone, and then she feels a delicious pinch and suck at her other breast from his mouth.

She frantically continues, feeling her heart rate rise and her breath become more jagged. Instinctively, her hand motions grow faster, press harder, go rougher — and she bites down on her lip as she feels her body start to writhe. Her brain fogs up, and soon all she can focus on is her desperation, the tension at her core, his roaming hands, his lips over her face, her jaw, her neck.

“Love to see a woman indulge herself,” he purrs.

“Fuck!” she blurts, her breathing heavy.

She is _so_ close.

“Come for me, Ingrid.”

And as if on cue, her body coils and releases. She lets out a loud moan, riding out the bubbles and fizz traveling up her spine. A few times wash over her, each one widening the smile on her face. Once she’s over her peak, her eyes flutter open and she looks in Yuri’s direction.

He’s still focused on her eyes. He offers her an adoring smile. She chuckles, and he leans in to dot her forehead with a soft kiss.

“Good job,” he tells her, combing her bangs off her sweaty face.

“Hm,” she hums, closing her eyes. She takes a long breath in and out. “Thank you,” she says, but comes out in a croak. She laughs again, upon hearing her voice crack.

“Nah, baby, that was all you.”

She bites her lip, turning her body to face him. “Well, you helped quite a bit.”

“Well, now that you know what you like, I can only hope you pleasure yourself as much as you can,” he tells her. “You deserve it.”

She smiles, eyes looking him up and down. Seeing him still fully clothed, she lifts her hands to shirt collar.

“You know what I deserve even more?” she asks slowly, starting to unbutton his shirt.

His eyes twinkle knowingly. “What?” he asks, nonetheless.

“For _you_ to pleasure me.”

**Author's Note:**

> why yes, I _am_ going to write practically every ship I can with Yuri. join me in my journey on [twitter](https://www.twitter.com/napsbeforesleep)


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